I sit at the edge of my bed,
White stocking covered feet
Swaying without breaking a beat,
You laugh and tell me, "no more, sweetie"
I give a smile but continue in denial
In denial that this is a fantasy I created after a while.
After months of late night calls and whispered sins
Months of laughter and cocained induced spins
It was when the truth slipped my lips that fantasies and dreams were locked away.
I laid in my cold bed, staring through a screen.
Your jaw tightened and my eyes fluttered closed.
Moments before we had laughed about our fantasies and I dreamed of a alternative life.
I even said, dreams don't come true and you neither denied it or agreed.
You enjoyed the thought of holding me and brushing your fingers over my skin.
I now enjoy the thought, alone in cold sheets of being loved again.
I messaged you in silent fear, will you ever come near?
Near to what we use to be,
Near to laughter and calling me your little Ducky?
You say you are torn, hurt and distressed.
One little Lie and I have to pull up my dress.
I cover my body and bow my head,
My Love, I am nothing but dead.
You don't know it now but I can see,
A day or so you will forget about me.
Fantasy will be locked behind a door,
Dreams have turned to nightmares since you aren't here anymore.
I wish I could have kept quiet,
But silence isn't my strong suit.
I wish you were dumber, after your nose is abused,
But instead you remain sharp and count the years until I can down a *****.
I sit on the edge of my bed,
Bare feet swaying.
My eyes are glued to the bare stop I wish you were kneeling.
I part my lips to return a sassy response when I remembered;
Fantasies don't become reality.

He looked at her lower back
Expecting it
Any second now
She was wearing low rise jeans
It was bound to happen
What was she hiding?
He was about to find out
Bam! Jackpot!
Lace pink ones
Interesting, he thought
It was his first time he’s seen hers
Sometimes he would see some only once
Sometimes he would see some daily
That would be the only time he would see them
After all, she did wear them her way

He learned some things
And passed it on saying
“You can always learn a little bit
From what ******* she has on”

Freshman year, he’ll never forget
His first female friend he made
“She’s a ****” His friends persuaded
One day in Algebra, her black thong displayed

Three years later, same thing
They were both in the choir
She made his heart sing
He saw a blue g-string, he blinked
Because he thought he saw a wink

He saw a cute polka dotted pair
On a curvy girl he liked with long hair
His eyes said Hello to a certain Kitty
To a friend of his with big *******

He even got up skirted... A few times
The first time the girl lifted her skirt
And showed the whole class
That her ******* are as green as Spring grass

The second time was funny really
The girl was known as kind of a freak back then
When she did it, she probably didn’t mean it
But the boys’ thirsts needed to be quenched

Whenever history class got boring
A certain girl got him stirring
He daydreamed about her *** going in a circle
And one day he learned about a **** secret that happened to be purple

He saw a pair through yoga pants
After all, they were translucent
She was a dancer
He could see it all, it was magnificent

And one chick was in the band
And the choir
She actually showed it to them on a dare
Hmm, red, good choice of attire.

Through it all
He learned these things
After observation
Warning
This can cause an altercation
These ******* hide the sweetness
That is consummation
Some girls are sweet
Most are sassy
But that was the fun part
What were they hiding?

To tell you exactly, specifically, precisely why I love you
I'd have to reinvent an alphabet, create a language, learn to sign
The feeling that bubbles within when I look into your eyes cannot be captured or explained

I feel like the world stops moving
My breath struggles leaving my lungs
All my fears, worries, washed away

What is so powerful about loving you
is the way you love me in return
I feel confident, unstoppable, beautiful
You tell all the dark parts inside to quiet
whispering, no shouting to them:
I am worthy of love

To be worthy is all that I have ever wanted,
needed,
cried for in the middle of the night

Although there is still so much to learn about each other
Adventures to be had, moments to share
I am giddy with anticipation
your love gives me strength
Replenishes me
Fulfills me

I have yet to really write down how I feel about you until now
I've been afraid words would take our magic away
I'd wake up one morning and realize is was a mere dream

You steal my chapstick with your kisses
Put up with my sassy abrasive nature
You encourage me to work
The way you look at me sometimes gives me the courage to begin to look at myself the same way

With your arms tightly around me, our legs intertwined, I begin to imagine what heaven could actually be like

When I'm with you, I say I love you honestly
Eeach time is unique.
I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have you
to be loved by you
every syllable is as sincere as the last

You make it okay
All the bad, dark, sorrow filled places within me that sometimes consume my light.
You accept those places,
You make me forget they even exist
You make my light shine brighter

We joke about my ego
but since you have been in my life, I feel okay
Even when I'm not, I know I will be.
Granted, it's not solely what you do for me but what you let me do for you
You allow me to love you
Accepting my love
welcoming it like you would a long lost friend
you do not turn and hide
you embrace me with arms open wide

It's magical
It's what I've waited for my whole life

What I spent so much energy convincing myself I could never have

It's everything that I'd ever want and more
It's love
It's life
It's you

lips become cherry red when I cry
and chasing cars hurts from my ears
                                                 down to my toes
because it was never wasting time

   I almost killed my jeep battery
(forgot to turn the lights off)
             drinking coffee to Iowa cornfields and a resurrected yearning
maybe I'll leave (I want to)
            --LA, Paris, Austria, Versailles, Rio, Carmel, Amsterdam, Mumbai--
I'm audacious and arrogant--much too proud of
                               my flaws
leaving would be easy: intoxicating
like caffeine
       stars
       fear
       laughing kisses
but staying means home and English and standing out like a sore thumb (a beautiful one) in public
            and the people I deeply love
                                      (and need) I can admit that now
so I'll watch the Capri Sun orange sunset
once again tonight
and try to intoxicate myself with
               cornfields, sassy 8th graders, my beautiful examples of true love, ADD, bashful boy,
                       and pieces of the world
  
                                                        ­              on my body

lady
pretty lady
happy lady
smiley lady
singing lady
funny lady
laughing lady
cute lady
fine lady
hat lady
hipster lady
hold me, lady

lay lady
lay with me on my big brass bed
stay with this lady a little while
let's not do anything today, lady
can we watch movies all day, lady?
i'll let you take my sixteen candles virginity
as long as you've saved your pretty in pink one for me

cheeky lady
sweet lady
warm lady
soft lady
kind lady
kiss me, lady?

blue lady
sassy lady
music lady
lovely lady
love me, lady?

bindi's grace the top of her mocha forehead.
wrist draped with bangles.      African soul.
style so Afrocentric
             afro so black panther
fist high in the air she is black pride. she embraces the motherland with open arms and is proud of her heritage. music notes hidden in the blacks of her eye. she is music. hiphop and r&b.;
tupac's  lyrics ingraved on her tongue. words of left eye instilled in her brain.
              music gives her life.
voice of an angel yet  she stays mute. black ink at her fingertips and a notebook always at her side. she is a lyrisit. she is sassy. press the wrong button and she's gone for a moment but will soon comeback to earth. a beautiful quiet vibrant soul she is indeed.  stubborn and mean at times but still as sweet as the refreshing taste of lemonade on a hot summers day.
she is Africa. she is India. she is Haiti. she is black pride. she is music. she is poetry. she is wonderful. she is comical. she is lovely. she is classy.
she is my big sister.                                     O.Rob.

Admirable, Blissful, Bewildered, Curious, Capable, Compassionate, Determined, Daring, Delighted, Dazzling, Eagar, Edgy, Enlightening Enthusiastic, Elegant, Fabulous, Fantastic, Forgiving, Fictitious, Fancy, Feminist, Glamourous, Gorgeous, Glowing, Guarded, Greatful, Generous, Gloomy, Happy, Honest, Hopeful, Humourous, Humble, Humane, Heartiest, Heavenly, Imaginative, Interesting, Inspiring, Intellegent, Incredible, Impressive, Important, Indecisive, Invisible, Jinxed, Joyous, Judicious, Justified, Jobless, Jiggish, Jimp, Jittery, Jazzy, Jaunty, Kindhearted, Keen, Knowledgable, Kiddish, Knavish, Knockout, Kempt, Kween, Kin, Kittens, Kinder, Lazy, Luxurious, Lively, Loyal, Limit, Laminated, Lawless, Lightning, Lushious, Luminous, Lovesick, Logical, Modest, Marvelous, Motivated, Music, Momentous, Mindful, Magical, Memories, Merciful, Mellow, Mesmerizing, Malicious, Mannered, Noble, Nervous, Night, Naive, Noted, Natural, Nifty, Nurturing, Never-ending, Noteworthy, Neglected, Narnia, Native, Number 1, ***, Openhearted, O Canada, Obviously, Obidient, Obsessions, Open-minded, Oriented, O.K., Observing, OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD, Omnicient, Outshining, Obliged, Obsticles, Passionate, Personally, Poetry, Picture-Perfect, Positivity, Pulse, Painful, Physic, Power, Protagnist, People-Person, Pros, and Cons, Purity, Purpose, Pleasant, Pieces, Quiet, Quality, Quick, Quoted, Queen, Quirky, Quintessentially, Quest, Quick-Minded, Questionable, Quarter, Quiver, Quiddity, Quiescent, Qui vive, Quip, Quantity, Ravishing, Rapport, Reliving, Reassuring, Rebal, Rainbows, Reckless, Relaxing, Respect, Remedy, Regrets, Right, Relatable, Reliable, Rad, Ready, Responsible, Rainy days, Sagacious, Salutary, Sassy, Secure, Self-assured, Self-reliant, Self-confident, Self-disciplined, Selfless, Sensational, Sensitive, Stars, Shawn Mendes, Sénorita, Sentimental, Set, Serene, Seamless, Significant, Sightly, Trustworthy, Talented, Tender-hearted, Thriving, Thankful, Titanic, Touché, Touchy, Transparent, True, True-blue, Traveller, Transpicuous, Titillating, Timeless,Tidy, Teasing, Tender, Terrific, Thorough, Thrilling, Unarguable, Ultimate, Undefining, Under-the-weather, Unalloyed, Unassuming, Uncommon, Understandable, Undivided, Unique, Unlimited, Unstoppable, Uplifting, Upbeat, Uber, Unconvensional, Uhuh, Unbelieveable, Under control, Unquestionable, Utter amazment, Valiant, Valuable, Valid, Veridical, Valiant, Vibrant, Vigorous, Vigilant, Victorious, Visions, Vivid, Voluptuous, Vulnerary, Vulnerable, Venust, Veracious, Vestal, Violen, Vroom Vroom, Victory, Vows, Wake me up, Wise, Welsome, Well-behaved, Welcoming, Well-grounded, Woke, Whimsical, Whistler, Wholesome, Wired, Witty, Wondrous, Whilst, Winter, Wonderful, Wide-Awake, Walk it like I take it, ****-bang, Wishful, Wellness, Worth it, World-Class, Xo, Yolo, Zero

composed entirely of
the simple seduction
of contradictions
i play a fine balancing game.

good vs. evil
happy vs. sad
fine vs. im fine
alive vs. dead
dad vs. mom
sassy vs. mom
sassy vs. the shitshow
sassy vs. hatred

spoiler alert
right wins.

I have a cat, a fat sassy cat.
And her name is Ms Sassy Lynn.
I talk to her all the time,
I discuss with her whats on my mind.
And the joy in that is,
she never talks back.
She's always hungry, i know because,
She gives me a meow,
and then licks  her lips.
I say No, but she knows I will always
End up saying yes.
At bed time, as I crawl into bed.
Here she comes carrying a stuffed mouse
And then when I wake up,
There are 4 of them laying next to me.
She is very generous indeed.
Then as this next day begins,
I hear a meow, and she licks her lips,
And I know now why my sassy cat is fat.
My  cat named Ms Sassy Lynn

By judy - 2022

East...and west, are we?
north, and south?.....maybe...
we were nurtured with love,
our eyes and our minds opened
to different isms that helped shape our
values...we were brought up, bearing our
folks' customs, traditions and principles...
we have different faiths...some practice...some
don't...some, don't even subscribe, yet, survive.

we have dry and monsoon season...in
other parts, pleasant weather, cold winds,
and in some parts, snow.....turning to ice

we are  a mix of white skin, seeking for a tan,
and brown-skin, hiding from the sun;
one's night, is the other's day,
there are surfers among us, playing with the waves,
there at the cusp...gambling...daring fate...
there are those who hide from silent freezing winters,
finding warmth and comfort in long hot summers...

countless points of comparison,  
yet, we've something beautiful in common,
a connection of feelings, of words...our poetry,
flowing like blood, through our veins...endlessly
feeding, fueling our hearts and minds, with classy,
themes....sometimes bold, mushy, or....sassy...
no set skeds...we do it even through adversity...

we write......

we tell about our escape from life's banalities,
mindscapes, landscapes immersed in frivolities

yet, we await the marvels of each  morning we wake,
remembering gratitude, in every breath we take...

years have passed us by,
still, plays this soft music that mollifies
and inspires......heard only by you and i
prodding us, through hours, of day or night

while you exist in your own part of the world,
as i, in my hot, humid cosmos, long for cold.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    May, 19, 2019

Touch me my soul make the words roll over my skin
Only if you know how to write to me my angel my kin
I am not waiting for a mask not either a disguise
Open your veins to me
Let me read in the red waters on my lips
Let me read the words, free me of the words
in any possible way
may the rain down my eyelids
may they kiss my legs
Make me laugh like a springtime morning
A soft laughter that tears up the skies
Those who gives shivers and marvels
send a shiver to my spine make my head spin
feed on my sapiophile soul
more never stop or only to make me miss you
only to make me deliciously pine for them ever more
I am tired by the dalliances I want the four season muse
You are so right I am the demure sylph
Inured by the tar black clouds and the tempests
so delicate with those thin dragonfly lyrics
It's all made of your sighs and your caresses
One day perhaps you'll have your own epiphany
You will call me Marie and all of my other names
You'll use your precious eloquence to tell me
How we were meant to be
Resonate like a familiar sound snowing in my mind
Purifying the emotional landscape
NOW is the time even if there's no hurry
Haven't we lost enough time to be without one another
Every of my names no matter my dress
They will all adore you as bitter as sweet
I'll be on your ego like a caress
I will read you like a sassy poem
Like an impatient flame
You'll be the one who dares to be frail
You'll dive in my treasure and get out of the bitter sea
Together like a team united for the beauty of the worse(...)

"You're the Ariel to my Prospero"
He says grinning
with dagger pearl teeth
that could nibble my ear
or easily rip out my heart.

Ignorant of his mundanity
He does not know of those
who came before.
Names are relative.
"You're the Puck to my Oberon"
"You're the Tink to my Peter Pan"
Heard 'em all.
Plight of the Manic Pixie
Not Dream Girl.

Charming Sassy Childish
girl.
Sidekick Extraordinaire.
But lower than Robin to his Batman.
Messenger, Trickster, Mischief Maker.
Companion.
Adventurer.
with a temper ten times his size.
A power unnamed. Unused.
Never Enough.

Never enough
to Want to challenge her master.
ProsperoOberonPeter

I will drink the poison for you.
I will sink the ship.
I will find the ****** flower
and enchant the Fairy queen.
Follow orders, then twist them.
With some glittler and a devilish smile.

Crazy Tiny
girl.
Too pixie to hold on to
Catch me Boy!
Alreadycaughtnoneedtocatch.

Little ****** Manic Pixie
Yearning for a kiss
a touch
a word.

When you're a manic pixie
there's no trio
no male sidekick to choose
over
the hero.
But the hero gets the girl.
Manic Pixies live to serve.

Not dignified or wise enough for Royal Athena.
Not ruthless enough for the Dangerous Diana.
Without the darkness of the Morrigan.
Virginity isn't a choice.
It's part of the job description.

Could I be your ladybird?

While most beauty pageants are strictly for girls,
there are a growing number that include boys as well;
                       [often, age divisions
                       for boys run through age 6
                       with very few going beyond that due to lack
    of mutual participation in the rampant molestation];          
                            Age divisions will often have names
such as Baby Miss, Petite Miss, Little Miss &c.
Age divisions broken     down   as follows: 0–11 months,
12–23 months, 1-3 years, 4–6 years, 7–9 years,
10–12 years, 13–15 years, and 16–18 years;
For boys,         sometimes two age divisions
would be merged such as 0–3 years, 4–6 years, etc.

Depending on which type of pageant system
is entered, contestants will spend about two hours
or less in the actual competition. Typically,
pageants have a guideline of no more than one
and a half minutes on stage per child for beauty
or formal evening wear; talent usually limited
                       to two minutes or less;
        with the exceptional allowance
        of two and a half to three minutes;

In glitz pageants, it is expected that girls
have different routines for every segment
of competition composed of different
movements sometimes described as sassy walks
and pretty feet among other names. ****** expressions can include liberal amounts of duck face; often referred to
as "pro-am modeling". Big hair (including fake hair),
flawless makeup, spray tans, flippers [fake teeth],
and nail extensions are also expected of contestants;
                   Glitz pageants may best be described as anything goes;
groping, molestation, ****, group molestation,
         forced oral & *******; virginity checks are routine; any
hyperactive child & also the parent subject
                              to a thorough, prolonged cavity search;

In contrast, natural pageants have
fairly strict guidelines regarding clothing,
makeup, hair extensions, etc.
Programs such as National American Miss
              forbid any makeup other than non-shiny lip gloss & mascara;
              for girls on stage. This modeling style is referred to as Miss America style [Some pageants have a prescribed
set of movements while others
                   allow more latitude in how girls will use the stage or runway]
                   Miss Tanguita translated
                 Miss Child Bikini,
                   is held in Barbosa, Santader,
                  Colombia as part of the annual          del Rio Suarez Festival

My mother and I we can get along...
I love her and she loves me so on so on
Some days are good some days are wrong

The rolling eyes and sassy tone
They start it all, she explodes
It's so confusing to me not knowing when she'll blow

Lava comes pouring out with some unmentionable words
I've come to the conclusion my mother's a volcano waiting burst
But a nice volcano of course

The gorgeous lady
What a pretty face and beautiful smile
Very classy and sassy
Along with a sophisticated style
As she moves forward to the next chapter
Nothing will stand in her way
Taking everything one step at a time
She is bound to have even more brighter days

I stood over the sink
Scrubbing our negroni glasses
Wishing the ginger-scented soap
Would wash away the cancer
Because the chemo didn’t work

I was wearing eyeliner
When I first met you
We’d laugh about that later
Over a bottle of wine
And patatas bravas

We always had our weekends
Movie dates and inside jokes
We would guffaw at the
Fuckery of it all
My god your laugh
How it filled a room

I remember when you said
“I love you, Christopher…
because you just GET ME”
You expressed appreciation
For how I carved out time
For our friendship

I reminded you,
“I don’t carve out time for you,
I shove everything away while
screaming ‘I NEED MY HEIDI TIME!’”

*******.
I need my Heidi time

For years you were
The most consistent thing in my life
Always there for one another
We were each other’s touchstones
I realize this now more than ever
During my weekends spent alone

Wine tastes different now
Something’s missing
Going to the movies feels strange
It’s like the hero has
Left the frame

Remember when I smoked cigarettes?
You’d *** a drag as we crept
Through early evening traffic
On our way to get gelato
Or if we were feeling sassy
Maybe an affogato

I switched to vaping
When you went into hospice
Then back to menthols
When your spirit left this world

I’m addicted to our memories
More than the nicotine
They bang around my head
Like a song or a scent
Nostalgic  
And
Lingering

You tattooed
“CEDENDO VINCES”
On your wrists
“By yielding, you will win”
My finger traced those words
While I held your hand

Last breaths

But what are deaths?

Transitions
Energy
Shifting
A spark
Returning

/ / /

Those letters live
On my wrists now
A reminder of her
The sister I never had
And sometimes
I still hear her laugh

Harmonica and strums sail my shores
Tell my whole clan sonny, he ain't good
That I met a troller under a sycamore
He passed me all the love as he veiled

We walked around,camouflaged by leaves
Tell mummy he was a preacher's son
A soul that was open and hid it's stick
Unharmonised in accapellas I drowned

Swingers of melodic stormy strings
Tell sassy to keep her tassels tucked
To calm her tussles and noisy gongs
Shake on the octave of the beats

Whisked dreams of the lost yesterdays
Tell Jimmy to listen to her heart raise
Tie her down, bring her back home
Liberate and let her fly like a wild bird

Strolling down the dusty road
I reached the path of an abode.
The Black Shamrock an Irish pub
I stopped inside for a pint mug.
One mug topped off with ale
That next to Guiness Stout
Looked pale, A Pilsner in the glass.
And down the bar a drunken fool
Sat staring with blurred eyes and drool.
A sassy colleen tended the bar.
And if your hands were free,
They wouldn't get far, for
If they reach to the wrong place.
You'ld a  bar wenches Slap.
Across your face, and a spot of red
For all to see, that you got the Hand.
Of Molly McGee, a fiddler Bowed.
An Irish Jig, and a penny whistle.
Carried the tune to the drunken crowd
Within the room, a game of darts is made
While cribbage by old farts is played.
And the pints are emptied by the hour.
As the clock rings out in the churches tower
As drunks are Roused, and doors are closed
Old friends will stumble down the road.
All in an Irish night

Groovy brown skinned brothas
hip hop to the smooth jazzy
beats across the starlight scene,
exhilarating eyes light up
the uptown extravagance,
as they bust a move in the
drumbeating room, rotating
and vibrating, grinding and
bending, breathing in the
singing saxophones and
trombones.

Flashy lights shine bright
and vivid in crystal clears,
as young sweet caramel
girls sway to the high
hypnotizing sounds,
spinning hips lost in the
night, gliding on waves,
shaking in the serene
breeze like swinging trees,
soaring endlessly
across the rings of Saturn.

Heavy adrenaline rises
inside the upbeat and
sassy melanin sistas,
stomping stilettos,
show-stopping arms
and thighs harmonizing
to the midnight rhymes,
while hard bassline sounds
sifts inside various dimensions
of extreme delight.

my mother calls it being rude,
tends to yell at me for it
as if deluding herself into believing
that i won't yell back. i'm not a *****;
i won't take it
lying down.
i might be her son, but
being the teenager doesn't make me wrong,
and her being the adult doesn't make her right.
she doesn't get that,
doesn't see my side.

my friends call it sassy,
and encourage it,
and laugh, and it's nice
to just snark with them, back and forth
like a steady stream of sarcasm,
cutting quips from sharp tongues,
scathing remarks. it's all
playful, in the end,
like children who squabble over toys
then hug after mere minutes of cool down.

my mother used to call me "mouthpiece"
as a kid. it's funny how
she takes me so seriously when i'm only joking,
then laughs and degrades me
whenever i take something personally,
as if the verbal abuse slipping from her lips
is nothing more than teasing.
she's a hypocrite.
she calls me rude, an "ungrateful little ****",
wishes hell upon me, slaps me round the head
and gets in my face like a threat,
teeth bared like blades

but mother, i'm not scared of bleeding―
got that beaten out of me
so very long ago.
if you could just stop now, shut up,
quit being a mouthpiece, as you call it,
then this will all blow over,
and we can go back to pretending
that each of us doesn't exist to the other
for a couple nights.
we're sort of volatile, you and i
sometimes your words hurt more
than daddy's gripping hands or neglect ever could.

sometimes you make alcoholism tempting,
and wouldn't that be a fine symphony,
"like father, like son"
ringing hollowly in the empty space
between my ribs and my lungs
forgetting how to breathe
without breathing too much.
somebody once called my panic attacks
"attention seeking", but they were so wrong.
i've never wanted to be more invisible
than when i've found myself vulnerable
over a ******* memory, a ******* ghost of all the--

do you know how strange it is
to feel your heart hammering against your bones
with the too-fast flow of blood making your head spin,
when you've been so certain
that you've never had a heart at all?

this heart never got broken, depressingly enough.
it's kind of tragic to want something to hurt bad enough
to make you feel normal, human
but i've kind of been conditioned for disappointment
and solitude, and anger.
i've been so fine-tuned to drum beats
and cold voices,
it's no wonder i'm so closed off and detached.
but hey, at least it saved me some trauma,
no betrayals here, no questions,
no "i thought you loved me". hell,
i'm not even bitter that i never got a chance at a proper family

does that make me lucky?

ah, such a mouthpiece,
always spitting venom, dark humour at my own expense,
warding off any meaningful company
laughing about those times i tried to **** myself
like they're nothing

did you expect any less? how could you expect more?
your worthless son
is as cold and dead on the inside as his daddy.

that bitter symphony,
"like father, like son".

"You never finish anything."
Her words pierced my tongue.
I sighed. Hands on hips,
I looked at the broken bulb that flickered at me.

My foot started tapping.
Shifting my weight onto it, bent knee,
I looked sassy.

With the oven steaming, I started backing away.
I didn't like the smell, that's all.
"You're a failure, you know that?"
I knew it. She knew it.

People who met me could see potential,
but my eyes, they screamed disappointment.
I may as well have tattoo'd it on my forehead.

I'd wear it well.
Like Scarlett's letter,
imprinted for everyone to see.

A waste of time, she'd said.
That's all I was to her.
An embarrassment.

And she was right

I’m literally sitting here. Literally. I’m figuratively doing nothing. This time allows me to think. Contemplate; the future of this mess we call adolescence. You look at the clock. Tick tock…kids stepping over my feet, as I literally sit here. Figuratively doing nothing. I’m breathing. Writing. Forming a collection of words in this memo. They don’t fit together, realistically. I would go for a smoke, but I have no cigarettes. I am a sixteen year old, who is too awkward too phone her boyfriend’s home phone, and too awkward just to pop round. I have to see miss in an hour, there’s a kid who’s sad and I have to talk to him.
   Apparently I am confident. I’m not. I just listen to powerful music which makes me feel like I can be a queen. That’s the idea. To feel comfortable you need to not care, and look after yourself. You are queen, you care for your subjects. You rule with fair point. You go out and buy yourself a crown, or shoplift one. I don’t know, just whatever makes you feel like the main *****. Find what you like about yourself and spark it. Make what you like stand out. Find the things you dislike about yourself and show it off. I don’t like my **** but hey, just shake it a bit and it’s like simple twerking. I have thunder thighs which consist of a fair amount of muscle; I have perfected the **** drop. I have become stronger because of what I put myself through. I am the only one who can hear my thoughts. So if at first you’re thinking ‘******* I’m terrified, what if I look like a ****’ fake it.

After acting like this powerful alter ego you can become her. She takes over at times. I can switch between quiet, shy Sophia; into the proud, queen ***** Patricia. Patricia the stripper. I admit this is my alter ego. She wears red lipstick, a leopard coat and thigh highs. She owns a tiara and blows bubbles in her gum. She struts to punk music and breaths arctic monkeys. She dances to jack white, ***** wiggles and all. She sings Kate Nash and the kooks, because she needs to keep her showgirl ship with class and talent as well as outright hot radiation. She has no idea what she is doing, as long as everyone is happy and entertained; she is satisfied with her life. She loves everyone because they all contain a characteristic she adores.

I also have another alter ego who has no name. This is the first time I’m referring to her as her own alter ego. She’s like a ****** of crows. An unkind of ravens. She wears dangerously applied dark makeup. She always wears full black. She’s pretty much a Goth who thrives on shock, horror and Edgar Allen Poe. Her favorite author is Stephan king and she has murderous thoughts. She pouts. She is, oh so pouty; with darkened lips of a cherry flavor. She makes sassy comments which sometimes come out as unintended bitchiness. She scares people, but they call her cool. She’s a bass player, with a strong stance and a black bra and thong set. She smokes like a chimney. She has ash-ened dark lungs like her mind. She’s my biting ***** ego. She hates anything that’s negative in the human spectrum of life. Ironic. She can’t stand hate but embodies it. She smiles at kids playing or people busking. Under the black shell intended to scared, she has the interior of a marshmallow. Fluffy hair, pastel teddy choker, and a love for giggling. She smells or strawberries, cherries and bubble-gum. She is actually really happy; this drives people mad as they can’t label her…neither can I, unless this pinkie paradise is one of her own. Like all my egos…she is happy.

As a young girl I was always expected to do as I was told.
Don’t be too loud, don’t talk back, don’t appear to be sassy or bold.
Mind your manners, hold your tongue, there is no space for being rude.
Tone it down, cover it up, we don’t want your black girl attitude.

Forced into boxes with no space to move.
Restricted and restrained with everything to prove.
Constantly combatting the narrative they paint.
Making us look like animals while they look like saints.

We are said to be angry, bitter and loud.
Troublesome, uneducated, following the crowd.
Masculine, impute, stubborn and broken.
Accessories, trophies that ”one” friend, the token.
These strings of disrespect will no longer be allowed.
I don’t care if I’m not polished enough, I’m unwilling to be cowed.

Take back your subtle hate and blatant prejudices all wrapped up in a bow.
Served on a platter with fluffy words of disapproval and the saying “that’s just the way things go”.

They say we are stubborn, unmovable and complacent.
Well , consider how our feelings are always compartmentalized and latent.
Our cries go unheard, our request are unmet.
No one to protect us, left on our own to fret.

This debt that we carry is too much to bare.
It’s just as heavy as the onus that  we all have to share.
We are ethereal, complex and fed up with your satire.
You can have whatever you think of me, I’m done being your Sapphire.

The pretty lass
moved fawn-like
behind the counter,
her thin flowered sun dress
grasped her sleek-form
so delicately,
grinning behind glasses,
she mesmerized me
completely.

A bit sassy,
with an
air of confidence,
her craft spoke volumes.
She had
a keen eye for detail,
her quality
was impeccable,
burnished ancient coins,
Apollo & Diana the huntress
hung near iridescent colors,
Macaws & Amazons
blazed their vibrant hues.

She sold me Roman glass
wrapped in Sterling,
handcrafted by
her beautiful hands.
If she only knew
how much
it truly touched me.

Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp
Yellow straws pierced paper cups
My best friend Darcie sat opposite me but I’m drifting into my own day dream
Sorry buddy, I was busy thinking about boys
                                   ……….
I love it when they are 24 with their hoods up riding on their skateboards
Cigarettes exhales, face in a smoky haze
Sips from their pints, long phone calls at night
Out in the town with their boys, gentle stubble cute glasses, cheeky winks whilst passing
I love a guy who is both cocky and sweet with the latest Vans on his feet
His sense of humour pours with hilarious sarcasm, he lives for “the bantz”
I love it when a guy makes us both a cup of tea when he didn’t even ask me
I love it when they are cheeky, moody, funny, cocky and silly
Lying in bed every Sunday holding me
Messy tousled hair everywhere, fingers through mine, a hoodie I live in, a chest I feel protected with
Then, suddenly, Darcie snaps her fingers, I’m bought back to reality, sorry, I was busy thinking about boys……..

                                          ……………….
Saturday night, glitter flies, house party chaos inside cigarettes smoking, everyone drinking, rain pouring-
I stand in the corner, me and the queens there’s some tens they’ve just seen
I drink my drink, words are getting slurred
No time to think
Some lads walk over to us but they aren’t the lads I like
My mind wonders…….
                                            …………
I like guys with tousled hair and a soulful stare
I love sculpted features they are such handsome creatures and unique smiles so secret, I couldn’t tell anyone else
I love a tall lad who can make me laugh and I don’t mean giggle a little I mean **** my pants hilarious
I like a guy who is controversial, someone who is not afraid to say what he wants, a sassy man who can match me
I adore talent, someone who is brave from all the demons he has faced
“Earth to Hannah! Babe, you want to drink?”
Kirsty is in front of me
Oh **** yeah mate sorry, I was busy thinking about boys
                                            …………
Sunday hungover, watching Buffy the vampire slayer, obviously eating pizza
Then, in walks Ella
“Hannah, honey, I need some advice from ya!”
Ok.
Her lips are moving but her words are lost in translation
I don’t notice her frustration
Because, of course, I was busy thinking about boys
                                          ………..
I would love a sarcastic, cocky, cheeky lad to read me books on love
Then stare into my soul and say he’s found his, I am enough
To claim his search is over and even love me when he is sober
Sunday is made for napping in his arms in our fort of no harm
Drinking tea together in our lazy state not only is he a lover but also a soul mate
I would feel so pretty every time he looks at me, he would never cheat
I would chop his ***** off if he did, he knows this
Nah seriously though,
I really ******* would
But he would say “I don’t need to look anywhere else”, he’s being honest, I can tell
“Hannah! **** sake, are you listening?”
Sorry mate, I was busy thinking about boys
                             …………..
Long day, a thousand coffees consumed, I’m finally home
I race to my room I want time on my own
Candle light dancing on these walls the flame burns to white
Incense lit, vinyl’s play, I close my eyes and disappear into the night
Not even answering phone calls because I’m so busy thinking about boys
                              ………
My dream tall happy, funny, cocky king of street style he rides on his skateboard for miles, out with his boys drinking pints
Giving out cheeky winks but when he lays his eyes on me it’s his heart I win
**** stubble brushing against my soft delicate skin constantly wearing his clothes I live in
Fingers intertwine all the time, his body entangled in mine
And, on the days he’s not fine I do what I can to bring him back to life
He will be the bravest man I know because those demons never got your soul
Messing each other’s hair, breathing in cold air, running through the streets like we don’t care. His soulful stare
I love him so much
Sunday church is only present in our bed where we worship each other, he is my best friend and my soulmate like no other
We read to each other drinking tea together in our den of safety where he feels like home to me
His sarcasm gets me through every awkward family gathering
I laugh so hard I need to ***, he is the one for me
I haven’t met him but I’m in love already
He’s a good man, he doesn’t lie or cheat and he’s seen me in all my defeats but he’s helped me stand up once again where he chased away the pain
He’s a talented soul but he doesn’t believe it so yet I tell him everyday
We saved each others lives in a way.
So, yes to answer the question I was thinking about boys but there’s one particular,
His name unknown, no one you know
Nether do I
But I'm sure he is the one who will stay and be forever mine locked away in a locket close to my beating heart
I will not apologize for thinking about him, the one true love I will find
                                   …………

In Nineva, in melted days of yore,
In a very distant verdant realm
Of a shadowy enchanted Moor,
There rolled a nectar stream.

And whoever ever drunk from it
Whilst the sun rained her golden light,
Craved nevermore to drink nor eat
But perpetually dwelt in delight.

Once, upon her banks strolled a couple
Majestically holding each other's hand.
Golden robbed with plush ribbons purple,
All the way from a very far away land

Where dwelleth many a mandrill,
A realm of many a precious stone
And many a verdant rolling hill,
Though creatures there all but forlorn.

King and queen of Merindrill they were,
On a golden quest for perpetual youth
Akin to the luster of many a fiery star
Whose mystery none knows the truth.

Though the stream galloped in gladness,
Though meadow larks chirped in ecstasy,
A roving wind eerily rustled in sadness
As it danced about aspen leaves all sassy.

All birds of evil omen graced the heaven
Whilst darkling clouds blotted heavens' bed
But unto none did it seem a bad omen.
Dyadic ravens perched upon their head.

"Quaff, quaff, oh quaff not from the river,"
Unto the king quoth the first raven.
"In that river deep thou shalt dwell forever,"
Unto the queen quoth the second raven.

"Quaff, quaff, oh quaff not," they didst spoof
At the ravens whilst as quick as drops of rain
Plummeting from earths' eternal dewy roof,
In such haste, they quaffed again, and again.

And 'tis for that reason that all men know
From the ***** of that sweet rollin' river
Did the fanciful couple now as cold as snow
Ever leave, but there dost live forever.



©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California, USA.
06/Nov/2018.

I am a gingerbread
   sweet tangy ******* head
addicted to making
   marmalade sunsets
playing funeral organs
    cooking grass
on my BBQ
     I stir with
olde english
     marinade with you
on a bed of roses
     on our hill
growing wild sassy
          cooking stews
of parsnips wild onions
     marmalade you and
the morning dew.

I bought a dog last September and I've loved him ever since.
He is a Great Dane and his name is Prince.
When I bought him, he was only six weeks old.
He's a sweet dog who is also sassy and bold.

He cost 400 bucks but to me he's worth 400 Grand.
When I pet my big baby, I know that I'm a lucky man.
Every time I see his fawn coat, it makes me feel glad.
He's a beautiful animal and the best dog I've ever had.